


I don't wanna say what's scripted

by KHart



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Softness, a soulmate au, give Sasha a hug 2kforever, my first soulmate au is Baysha and we Stan that fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-11 20:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18431999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHart/pseuds/KHart
Summary: If Bayley was being truthful, she’d admit that she used to dislike her words.(Never fully, really. Never wholeheartedly, of course. More in a mild sense, you could say.She never looked upon them—inked across the soft skin of her inner wrist—with true disdain.)It was just that something about them mildly rubbed her the wrong way.---Or: A Baysha soulmate Au, where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed into your skin.





	I don't wanna say what's scripted

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Scripted" by Zayn.

**_Why are you so nice?_ **

If Bayley was being truthful, she’d admit that she used to dislike her words.

(Never fully, really. Never wholeheartedly, of course. More in a mild sense you could say.

She never looked upon them—inked across the soft skin of her inner wrist—with true disdain.)

It was just thatsomething about them mildly rubbed her the wrong way.

Something about them felt sharp, accusatory, possibly even disdainful, and she didn't like those implications.

Because, really, was there something _wrong_ with being nice? And what was it to the person asking her anyway? (Other than them being her soulmate, of course, but whatever. Maybe if they had a problem with her being so nice then she didn’t want to meet them anyway.)

And, alright, denying her desire to meet her soulmate was a lie. She did want to meet them, very much so.

And, alright, maybe she could recognize that out of context, the words could be read in a misconstrued way.

And, maybe, they weren't that bad. Maybe, her words did actually compel her to want to meet her soulmate even more. Maybe, that’s why she didn’t dislike her words for very long.

Because the very calling into question of why she was nice made her _be_ nicer, act kinder and more generous. And, at first, as a kid, it was for purely selfish reasons. She wanted someone to question her, to call her out on it, because then she would know that they were the one she was supposed to be with.

But as she grew, and matured, and learned about the hardships and the struggles that didn’t just apply to her, she realized she _loved_ being nice. Being kind and caring and generous was the right thing to be, and she knew that better than a lot of things some days.

Some days—on her gray days—when everything felt dim and hopeless, and she didn't know if the sun would indeed rise with the next dawn, if someone just smiled at her, held her hand, told her it was going to be okay, she felt a little better. She felt a little better, and she knew that if she could make someone else feel that way, on a different day, then she’d done her part as a human.

So, while she used to dislike her words, she eventually grew to love them, simply because they helped her evolve into a better person. Maybe selfishly, at first. Maybe out of spite, in the beginning. But, eventually, for the right reasons.

So, whenever she saw them after her so-called epitome—her evolution, one could call it—she only felt a tingly type of warmth.

There was an innocent anticipation etched into each letter.

As she watched her friends find their soulmates, as she watched her parents while she was growing up, she wondered about what her own person would be like.

What would they look like? How would they sound? Would their hands be soft in her own? Would their hugs feel like home?

She was eager to find out.

She felt complete on her own, yes. She felt full with her own friends and family, obviously. But she still wanted that final piece of the puzzle, the last part of the lock that needed to shift into place.

And she had never been at the pinnacle of the practice of patience before, but she eventually learned the ropes well enough to get by. And she did know, truthfully, that it was only a matter of time before she met them. 

The universe was the one pulling the strings, after all, right? So, it was inevitable.

 _So_ , all she had to do was be patient. 

And patient she was. _Eventually_. Most of the time. 

Most of the time, it was easy not to think much about the words on her wrist. She was training to be a professional wrestler, and she had workouts and character studying and a rigorous routine to keep up with. So, every day and most of the time, she covered her words up with supportive tape, and on she went.

She had bumps to feel and move-sets to choreograph and limits to push. There were always limits to push, whether they were personal or professional, and just as she always had that drive to be better, and just as that drive increased with each passing day, so did her drive to be _nicer_.

She didn’t want to tear other people down to get ahead; she didn't see the point.

The people at the WWE Performance Center, though? Well, they were ultra-competitive. Which isn't to say that Bayley wasn't too, but there was a certain clashing of personal codes when it came to their relationships to one another.

To put it simply, a lot of the recruits sent looks to anyone that was breathing, that clearly portrayed how they were not to be approached with smiles and friendly salutations. Some of them even stated it outright, to her face and to some others' faces that had attempted geniality. 

They got the message across clear, and Bayley definitely respected their boundaries. But she didn’t stop being nice.

If there was something she thought someone could improve upon in the ring, she told them, but it was never with scathing syllables. She always praised what they had done right, first, and then she showed them how she thought the new technique could work.

Sometimes she got a thank you, and sometimes she didn’t.

In the mornings, she greeted people in the same tone, with the same smile, because she'd read in an article that familiarity in routine—a consistency in structure, as long as it didn't mean you were stuck in a rut—helped people feel more stabilized, and, thus, more susceptible to learning. 

And sometimes she got a hello back, sometimes she didn't. 

She learned to just roll with it. It was 50/50 some days. 20/80 others. 

And, of course, she had her own off days. Those gray days. Where maybe her cheerfulness felt more kept up than it came naturally. She _was_ human, after all. 

She didn't think people really noticed, when her tone wasn't the same and neither was her smile, but eventually she realized that they did.  

And while it had taken a while for people to warm up, eventually, it seemed like they did. It seemed like the atmosphere started to change.

Some of those people that had sent the looks before were nodding in greeting as they passed. Some of those people that hadn’t said thank you before offered their own constructive advice, and it wasn’t in scathing syllables, either.

And Bayley wouldn’t take credit for it, of course—she wouldn’t even attribute it to herself—but she _was_ very happy to see that people were realizing that they could all advance together, that they didn’t have to trip one another up to keep moving ahead.

She was very happy to make new friends that hadn’t felt approachable before, and she was resolved to keep trying to make friends with the ones that proved to be a little harder to crack.

Because there were some that she could get a few words out of, on good days, but there were also others who wouldn’t entertain small talk at all, no matter if there was sun or sleet in the skies.

And there was one person in particular that was the most stubborn, and, therefore, the most intriguing.

Her name was Sasha Banks.

She was the one that Bayley was most resolved about. She was the one Bayley really wanted to be friends with.

Because she was truly such an _enigma_.

She cared so much about the sport, that much Bayley could tell, simply by the way she moved and breathed and almost _visibly_ _thought_ in the ring. But outside of wrestling, she was nearly always expressionless. (Save for a few times where she looked on from the edges, with a disguised look of displeasure on her face when one of the guys or girls said something she seemed to deem obnoxious. Not that Bayley had ever had to hide a snicker when she noticed or anything like that.)

And there was another thing fascinating about her, and that was that, aside from the coaches and trainers, Sasha didn’t talk to anyone. Not a single soul.

Bayley had noticed, after her first, “ _Hi!_ ” had been rebuffed, that it really wasn’t to be taken personally. Sasha Banks simply didn’t speak to anyone one-on-one.

Her promos and character work were directed at all of them and none of them, so it didn’t count. (Though Bayley was endlessly fascinated and awed by how quickly the woman came alive with the words and mannerisms of her “Boss” persona.)

It didn’t matter the day, didn’t matter the circumstance, didn’t matter the words, no matter what Bayley said to Sasha, Sasha would not speak back. Sometimes she’d give a curt nod, but that was about it.

Even when she had to do one-on-one work with somebody in the ring, she directed her comments to the trainers, and a lot of people took this to mean that she was arrogant, that her “Boss” persona wasn’t something that was switched on and off but that it just _was_. Bayley didn’t agree, though.

Someone who worked as hard as Sasha did couldn’t possibly be as arrogant as people thought. Arrogant people got lazy, they took their slots and skills in life for granted, and if there was any other thing Bayley noticed about Sasha—aside from the hundreds she'd noticed before—it was that Sasha didn’t take any of it for granted.

She sweated, she bled, she lost skin on her hands and her knees and on the heels of her feet. She wasn’t afraid to take bumps, but she was a little stubborn to take medical attention. Bayley had heard her insisting she was fine more times than she could count, but, eventually, the no-nonsense eye of the trainer made her concede.

But she was always up and active again as soon as she was allowed. And maybe even before then, as there were some nights where Bayley came to work out when she couldn’t sleep, and there Sasha was too, healthy or injured, doing as much as she could physically handle.

And whenever it happened, that they were there together, they didn’t speak. Which would seem obvious, given the past context, but that specific silence felt different to Bayley. It felt more intimate.

Sasha didn’t leave, and Bayley took that as her being alright with her presence enough. So, Bayley respected her boundaries, and she didn’t try to push a conversation on her.

They both did what they came there to do, and that was that.

After a while, it started to feel almost companionable even, but that could have also been a result of Bayley’s wishful thinking. She wasn’t entirely sure.

She thought she noticed, during the days, when they were back in group settings and situations, that Sasha would look at her with a little less hardness than before, not softness per se but definitely something of an improvement.

But, again, she didn’t know if she was reading into things.

Not until one day, when she’d left her water bottle back at her apartment and was about to move to the water fountain before feeling a light tap on her shoulder that stopped her.

When she'd turned around to see Sasha standing there with a water bottle held out for her.

Her eyebrows raised themselves up in surprise.

“Oh,” had slipped past her lips before she could even think to form it. “Thank you.” Her fingers wrapped around the plastic, and when they brushed over Sasha’s own, for a fleeting second, that tingly type of warmth she had kind of lost track of reignited. “Very much.”

As expected, she got a nod in reply, but, this time, it was accompanied by a hint of a smile, possibly a smirk but not sassy enough—truly sincere. Bayley returned it the only way she knew how: with all of her effort.

She’d been told before that her smiles were really bright, and she didn’t want to blind Sasha at all, so she unscrewed the cap shortly after and took a drink.  

Sasha lingered for just a few seconds more, looking faintly pleased, and then she went off to do her thing.

Bayley watched her go curiously. Because, man, was Sasha _curious_.

And, man, was her smile, even in its intentionally dimmed state, beautiful. Bayley wondered what it would look like if it were allowed out of hiding, if it wasn’t just a peeking through the hedges. She was content to wait for it, if she had to, but that didn’t mean she could stop thinking about it, as they all started to get back to business.

In fact, it was really all she _could_ think about, and she realized she wanted to work even harder to make it reappear. She’d even started to make a list in her head, of strategies that might prove useful for doing just that, but it paused in its metaphorical penning when she heard a more raised commotion come from a separate ring.

“You know what, I'm getting about sick of your cockiness, Banks. Why can’t you speak directly to any of us, huh? You think you’re better than all of us? Can’t even share words?”

Bayley’s muscles had tensed over the curves and rounds of her bones instantly, irreversibly. She’d wanted to move forward, towards the other ring, but she was too far away, and it would be too obvious.

And Sasha’s back was to her, but she could see that the woman was standing face to face with the agitator—a rookie Bayley had shared some conversation with before but was not all that impressed by, in the way of their genuineness for making friendships.

A nervousness settled uncertainly over the air, almost as if it was unsure, itself, of if it was in the right place or not. Bayley shared a glance with her own current partner, Becky.

The scoff that sounded made her refocus her attention, and she was suddenly aware of just how much height and weight advantage Sasha’s opponent, in the metaphorical sense before but possibly to be legitimized quickly, had over her.

That nervousness started to feel more solid.

“You may think you’re hot shit, Banks, but let me tell you something, there ain’t nothing special about you that makes you stand out among the lot of us.” A harsh finger was poked right into Sasha’s sternum, and Bayley had to bite back a gasp. “You better learn to check yourself.”

“I think _you_ need to back up and go cool off.”

This was said by Charlotte, daughter of Ric Flair, but, more importantly, Bayley eventually learned, a woman trying to make a name for herself just like the rest of them.

She was Becky’s soulmate, but that wasn’t really public knowledge. Bayley only knew because the three of them had gotten on very well, as soon as they were introduced to each other, and so they’d trusted her enough to share.

Truthfully, Bayley liked to think that Becky and Charlotte were the best friends she had in the place, aside from Sasha, who she still considered a friend anyway.

And that, coupled with the fact that she was Becky’s soulmate, meant that as Charlotte stepped in between Sasha and the other woman, Becky and Bayley were sliding out of their ring and making their way over.

Bayley had enough self-awareness to silently admit that she felt relief, at having an excuse to come over—an excuse other than her one-sided care for Sasha, that was.

“ _Oh_ ,” came the response, with redirected attention. “And if it isn’t Little Legacy coming to insert herself in a place she doesn’t belong. How familiar.”

“Hey, what’s your problem?” Becky asked, as she and Bayley finally stepped up at Charlotte and Sasha’s sides, respectively.

“My _problem_ is certain people in this building thinking they’re better than others when they’ve got no real reason for doing so.”

“Well, there’s a pot calling the kettle if I ever heard one,” Becky retorted quickly. “How about you go cool off as suggested and get over yourself. I don’t think we need to make this a legitimate confrontation, now do we?”

Bayley’s jaw ticked. Her feet shifted her stance just a little.

“Oh, please, like I couldn’t take you.”

“The four of us?” Bayley finally spoke up, and she had to intentionally ignore the way Sasha subtly glanced back over her shoulder at her. “I doubt it.”

The woman inhaled a slow breath through her nose, still looking extremely pissed off. She casted a glance over to the trainer, standing in the far corner of the ring with their arms crossed and eyebrows raised. (It was a tendency of theirs to let the talent work things out amongst themselves right up until it got actually physical.)

Another scoff came, but, after a few seconds, they watched her climb through the ropes and walk away, muttering to herself all the while.

Becky turned to Charlotte with a look of _can you believe?_ and it earned a light huff of amusement and a slinging of a strong arm over her shoulders. The two of them started to move away, after similar looks sent over to Bayley, and Bayley inclined her chin almost imperceptibly in understanding.

Then, she carefully touched Sasha’s elbow, from where she was still standing behind the woman, but it was over the elbow pad so she wasn’t sure it could be felt.

“Hey,” she said quietly, after a few more seconds. She stepped closer, so that she was positive no one else could hear her. “Are you... Are you good?”

The nod she got was much shorter than the one she’d received earlier, and it was definitely lacking that smidgen of a smile too; Bayley didn’t like it one bit.

But she also didn't think it was her place to push or pry, so as Sasha made her way out of the ring, Bayley watched her go, as she was so accustomed to doing.

That night, she came to work out for the sole purpose and hope that she would run into Sasha there. She wasn’t disappointed.

A little fiercer than usual, Sasha was indeed already present and running on a treadmill when Bayley walked in. She didn’t cast a glance Bayley’s way—she was ignoring her a little more than usual—but Bayley still didn’t take it personally. Especially since she knew the day’s events were bothering the woman.

Instead, she went about her routine as she normally did. She kept it light, because she knew the next day wouldn’t be so merciful, and for a while after she finished, she just leaned back on one of the weight benches, with her hands over her stomach and her eyes searching the ceiling.

There was something that felt much more like home there in the PC than her actual apartment did. Existing in silence within it, without the noise and commotion of other people, helped her slow her mind down.

But there was another person there with her, and, on this night, unlike all of the others, she did accidentally make noise and commotion that was uncommon of her.

“Ah, _shit_!”

Bayley sat up quickly upon hearing the exclamation, whispered harshly but to its own originator.

She looked over to where Sasha had been upright and still running—almost running _from_ something, if Bayley were to put deeper thought into it—but she saw nothing but empty air.

She stood just as swiftly as she’d sat up, and then she saw Sasha on the ground, at the foot of the treadmill that was still on, her knee bent upwards and close to her chest.

“Hey,” she said, on instinct, moving forward before she could doubt herself. “You alright?”

Brown eyes came up to meet hers, but they flitted away when she was close and pressing the button to make the treadmill’s track slow to a stop.

Another nod.

“Twisted it, huh?” she murmured, almost gently, as she saw how Sasha’s hands were carefully cradling her ankle.

Sasha didn’t even give her a nod that time, but Bayley thought that was alright. She did seem to be having a pretty rough day.

“Stay here, I’ll get you some ice.”

There were always pre-made ice packs in the freezer in the kitchen, so Bayley grabbed one of those. Then, as she passed back by her bag, she also grabbed the compression bandage she kept for circumstances just like these.

When she fully came back, she saw that Sasha had moved to one of the rings, completely defiant of Bayley’s instruction to stay put. Luckily, she wasn’t attempting to do any sort of motions or movements. She was simply lying on her back in much the same way Bayley had been on the weight bench, with her hands clasped over her stomach.

“Alright, here, I got some ice.”

She settled the pack over Sasha’s ankle as soon as she was sure the woman had processed her words, not wanting to startle her in any way, and she made sure the towel it was wrapped in covered all points of contact.

Sasha reached out, almost without thinking, to take her place in holding it in its spot, and, similar to earlier in the day, their fingers brushed. But, this time, it was Bayley who was already in the middle of pulling away as it happened.

“I think fifteen minutes should be fine before we wrap it, yeah?”

Sasha kept her gaze on her ankle, and Bayley just took it as a yes. She hoped she wasn’t overstepping, because she wasn’t sure if Sasha would tell her if she was or not, and now she was injured, so she might not be inclined to leave if she was uncomfortable either.

But, still, Bayley didn't want to leave the woman alone. She didn't think that would help anything. So, she stayed, and they spent the following fifteen minutes in that companionable type of silence. Sasha had lost that fierceness during her fall, it seemed, and, so, then they were back to their version of normal.

It was nice, calm, collected. Bayley was scared to ruin it with her next question, when the time came, but she proceeded anyway.

“Do you, um, do you wanna wrap it yourself, or...”

She searched Sasha’s expression as she let herself trail off, because the only other option was implied, and she knew Sasha could tell what she meant.

There was a beat of hesitance, and then Sasha tilted her chin down, a granting of permission.

Bayley kept her smile muted as she went about wrapping Sasha’s ankle properly. She tried to ignore that tingle in her fingertips each time their skin made contact. She also tried to ignore the stare that was suddenly set heavily upon her, as she looked down at her task.

She could feel the attention on her more acutely than any other person’s that had come to her before, but it wasn’t necessarily unnerving. She didn’t feel _uncomfortable_ under the weight of Sasha’s gaze, but she also didn’t quite know what to do now that she was aware of being watched by the one person she always found herself watching.

She opted for just continuing in her motions. Her fingers moved deftly and with purpose, and she was just about done, was just fixing where the bandage had tried to fold on itself some, when she nearly jumped in her spot.

“Why are you so nice?”

Bayley’s eye sockets smarted slightly against the bulging of her eyes. Her neck nagged a little over the abrupt motion of her head snapping up.

Her fingers and hands and arms froze. So did the breath in her lungs.

Just as quickly as they had risen in their surprise, her eyebrows furrowed together and met in the middle.

She gave a short shake of her head, barely there, the kind that comes when you're not sure if you heard something correctly, or if you're processing it wrong. 

Because those were the right words, said in the right order, but they hadn’t been uttered in the way she had been expecting her whole life. They hadn’t come out in a way that felt sharp, or accusatory, or even disdainful. Not even indignant. 

No, they had been presented to her as a genuinely curious question, like it was a serious cause for pondering, like it _had been_ pondered over significantly and for a substantial amount of time previously.

So, to say Bayley was completely caught off guard would be an understatement. She truly didn't know how to react, respond, or feel, and there was so much suddenly flowing through her that she was struck still. And that was unfortunate, because with her continued lack of visual response, it seemed that Sasha thought she’d done something wrong.

“I’m sorry,” was whispered sincerely. “I didn’t mean it like...” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Bayley rushed to reassure, despite her lack of a real train of thought. “I know you don’t mean it badly, I just, um...”

She didn't know if she should just come out and say that Sasha had just muttered the most important question or not. Sasha was already attempting to shut herself off again, and Bayley didn’t want to make it worse.

But, also, she thought that not admitting that the right words had just been spoken in the right order would be wrong, and she would regret it.

“Give me a second.”

She swiftly finished securing the wrap around Sasha’s ankle, and as soon as her hands were free again, she set them about another job. She tried to do it smoothly and without faltering, but her fingers shook a little as she unwrapped her wrist.

Sasha watched her curiously, then: a turning of the tables.

Bayley listened to the way the woman’s inhale sharpened as soon as her skin was openly exposed to the air. She let herself be cowardly for two seconds before looking up and at Sasha’s face directly.

And like many times before—more like every time before—her expression was unreadable. But, unlike those other times, it wasn’t due to a concealment of feeling. It was because there was seemingly so much feeling fighting to come to the forefront of Sasha’s features, and one couldn’t win out over the others.

Bayley waited. (She had been waiting for Sasha since the beginning, since before they met and after they met, and she didn’t mind continuing to do so, even though her heart was pounding wildly against her chest.)

“Can I...?”

Sasha’s voice was incredibly hushed, as she reached out and let her hand hover over Bayley’s overturned wrist. Bayley made the same motion Sasha had earlier, a simple tilt of her chin downward.

The warmth, still tingling, that came as soon as Sasha’s fingertips traced over the black letters finally made sense. Bayley swallowed thickly, just as Sasha let out a slightly unsteady exhale through her nose.

However, despite the proof right under her touch, Sasha’s next question came: “This is... These are real?”

Bayley nodded, though clearly confused.

“Of course. Why would...? How could I fake it?”

Sasha’s throat bobbed. Her eyelids fluttered shut for a few seconds. Her jaw ticked once.

“It’s happened before.”

Bayley nearly stuttered again.

“What?”

“Someone faking it." Sasha's eyes reopened. "It’s happened before. Not intentionally, really, but still.”

The statement only left Bayley with more questions, and when Sasha removed her hand from her wrist, it was felt more acutely than her previous attention had been.

Sasha didn’t stop moving, though. She reached out to where the ice had been set aside and was more melted. She swiped her fingers across the side of it to collect the condensation along her skin, and then she brought them up to her collarbone, where a few firm rubs removed what appeared to be concealer.

Bayley’s eyes instantly latched onto the natural ink, spelling out one word.

“‘ _Hi_ ,’” she read out loud, feeling almost dumb in repeating what had, in fact, been her first word to Sasha.

She nearly face-palmed. She was sure that her embarrassment was visible on her face.

Sasha's gaze was kind, though—unaccusing, just as her first question had been. It made Bayley feel a little better. 

“As you can probably guess, I've heard it a lot of times before,” Sasha said next, still low, like the moment was fragile. "I've heard it pretty much every day of my life actually."

Bayley nodded, simply because she couldn't think of anything else to do.

"Yeah," she breathed out, dumbly. "I—I bet."

And, out of all of her earlier strategies, acting completely dumbfounded hadn't been on her list of ways to make Sasha's smile come back. And, yet, it worked.

It was still just a partial lifting of one side of her mouth, but it was a smile, and Bayley was just as immobilized by it as she had been before.

"I, um..." She searched around for the right words, for a proper reply, but all she could get out was, "I'm sorry I'm not more creative."

The low chuckle she got as a result sent a slow shiver down her spine. It had goosebumps rippling over her skin.

The words on her wrist felt alive.

"It's alright." A beat. "I'm sorry for being so closed off. And rude, at times."

Bayley shook her head.

"N-No. Don't worry about that. You, um, you obviously have your reasons."

"Yeah," Sasha mumbled, glancing sideways and then clearing her throat a little. "Um, it was just that there were other people." Bayley listened intently. "Before, I mean. With the same sort of greetings on them. The simple things, like _hi_  and _hey_ , you know."

There was a slight shaking of the head, a deeper drawing in of air and a weighed down exhale. Sasha's eyes were so serious, as they seemed to get drawn back into certain memories. 

Bayley couldn't help but offer, "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want."

Sasha hesitated a bit. Her eyes flitted back and forth between Bayley's own, like she was looking at something she'd thought she'd lost a long time before. 

"No," she said carefully, after a while. "I don't have to." Another pause. "But I want to." She bit her lip briefly. "It, um... it gets tiring not talking to people sometimes. And I—I think that, uh, it'd be good for me." Sasha's head ducked down a little. She had an air about her that was suddenly shier, less self-assured than Bayley had ever seen her. "And who better to talk to than my soulmate, right?"

When Sasha glanced back up, Bayley made sure that she was smiling, softly, to show that she wasn't looking at Sasha's more vulnerable demeanor with anything but respect. She nodded, just barely, to give encouragement, and Sasha eventually continued.

"So, yeah, there were other people, at different times, with the same types of greetings. And I fell for them, and they fell for me, because those were the right words, right?" She laughed lightly, but Bayley didn’t like the sound at all this time; it held no real humor, and it was awfully sad. "It always followed the same pattern too. It always felt like everything was going well." Bayley watched the way Sasha pressed her lips into a thinner line. She felt a melancholy ache pulse dully through her chest. "Up until their real words were on other people, that is." The next laugh was more watery, and Bayley's urge to bring the other woman into her arms and take up her pain was strong enough to force her to curl her toes into the soles of her shoes. "And, I don't know, it just—there's only so many times you can take that kind of heartache before you just... give up, you know?"

Their gazes reconnected, and Bayley found herself trying to reassure that she did know. Because even if she had never experienced the pain herself, she could understand.

It actually all made sense. The simplicity of Sasha's word made it too easy to believe that it was someone that wasn't Bayley who it belonged to, and the amount of times Sasha had implied it'd happened before... Well, who _wouldn't_ be scared to even  _attempt_ to find love again after that? Who wouldn't be scared to speak to someone else, to get their hopes up time after time, only to have them crash down and ripped away in the cruelest way possible?

Bayley couldn't think of anyone. Not any human, at least.

So, no, there was no way she could blame Sasha for her silence. She hadn't before, and she certainly couldn't after knowing why it was that Sasha chose to keep her words to herself.

It all made so much sense.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, earnestly. "That you had to go through all that."

And that something that was so sincerely aching within her must've bled into her words, because Sasha appeared to feel the words just as wholeheartedly; her eyes got a little misty. 

For a second or two, they sat there, looking at one another, but then Sasha cleared her throat, blinked some, and nodded. 

"Thank you," she replied, quietly. "And it's alright. I suppose it's in the past now, yeah? Because..." Her eyes drifted down, to where Bayley's arm still hadn't moved after Sasha's touch had withdrawn. "Because this time it's real." She smiled mildly. "Unless someone else has asked you that question before too. I honestly wouldn't be surprised."

Bayley tilted her head to the side, as her lips quirked up at one side. 

"Why do you think?"

"I don't know, you just—you're just always so  _nice_. Even when people don't deserve it. And I don't get why." And there was that evidence again, that maybe this had been pondered over before. Sasha shook her head minimally, with furrowed eyebrows. "Like, the way you just make sure everyone is alright and comfortable when you're working with them. And you always smile at everyone who walks in, even when you know they won't smile back, and—and how even when I didn't give you any reason to be kind to me, you were. I guess I'm just curious as to why."

And wasn't that a complex question?

Because if Bayley wanted to go into all the details, she could've said that it was a long process. It was learning to be kind out of selflessness instead of selfishness. It was learning to be kind despite the fact that a lot of people wouldn't be kind back, despite the fact that there wouldn't be a lot of reward. It was learning that even if they didn't deserve it because of how they acted, some people deserved it because they needed it. 

It was a lot of learning, and it was an evolution that had taken placed over the span of her whole life. It had taken every single second before the one where she was sitting there with Sasha to make it that way.

So, wasn't it a complex question? 

Well, it could've been. 

But it also could've been utterly simple. 

Because if Bayley didn't want to go into all the details, she could have simply said: "you." 

If Bayley didn't want to go into all the details, she could've simply said that the reason she was so nice was because she was so motivated by the words of her soulmate, without context, without knowledge of when or where she would meet them, that she wanted to be so nice just because she wanted to catalyze the process. 

If Bayley didn't want to go into all the details, she could've simply said that it was the knowledge, that one day, someone would ask her why she was so nice, that made her be so resolutely kind, at first. And that's how it grew. 

And, truly, Bayley _didn't_ want to go into all the details in that moment. Because it was suddenly starting to really settle in that she'd found her soulmate, her _person,_ the one she was meant to be with. And it was late at night, and one of them was injured, but they had their whole lives and careers ahead of them, and everything felt like it was colored more brightly than before. 

So, instead of giving an answer, she smiled, in that way she'd been told was blinding before, and she asked, "Do you believe in fate?" 

And Sasha, even though she seemed a little confused, and even though she still looked like she was in a little pain, smiled too.

And, this time, it was full showing of the teeth. It wasn't reserved, and, so, Bayley didn't have to wonder any longer about its brilliance. It was there, full force in front of her, and she wanted to show all the people before her that had said she was blinding to look at it and change their tune. 

But that would have to wait, and, maybe, she didn't want to give up the one on one way they were interacting yet. 

"Come on," she said, standing up and then offering both of her hands down for Sasha to use as support. "There's a 24-hour diner not far from here. They have great coffee. I'll buy."

"No, I got it," Sasha responded, as her fingers slipped over Bayley's palms and then held firm. "It's the least I can do." They stood face to face then. "You doctored me up, after all."

Bayley's skin felt electric in all the places it was touching Sasha's own. 

"Alright," she grinned. "Well, I'll drive, how about that?"

"Sounds good."

They started to step out of the ring, and Bayley's adjustment of her positioning as she was on the ground, to reach up and assist Sasha in jumping down was both instinctual and thoughtful. Her hands fit atop the woman's waist nicely. 

"And I promise I won't tell anyone you fell off the treadmill."

"Oh, how  _nice_ of you," Sasha shot over her shoulder, as she walked to grab her bag, albeit still a little gingerly. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Bayley watched her as she bent at the waist to pack some of her things up, and she shook her head to herself, before walking over to do the same with her own belongings. 

The smile on her face felt permanent at this point, and she wasn't sure it could ever be erased. 

But as Sasha came up beside her, looking the most relaxed and  _carefree_  Bayley had ever seen her, she was absolutely positive she would be okay with that.

Who cared if a few people got blinded along the way?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> My Tumblr is Flairfatale.


End file.
